Nice to Meet You
Hello. It's nice to finally meet you. Finally? Oh, it's uhh.. I’m just overjoyed to have someone to talk to. Oh, I cannot express how happy I am to have this opportunity. Oh? Why am I so happy? It's really quite simple. The last few years of my life have been torturous. I mean, god… Oh that's a funny saying. God. No loving god would let any of his children go through what I have. But now I have someone to talk to. Oh glorious day! Oh, where to begin? I think it was a day much like this one. I went to the library with some friends to find something to do over the upcoming weekend. We got there just before the library opened and found an hourglass on the stairs. Real ornate looking. Gold encrusted and whatnot. We were pretty bored, so we turned it over, set it down, and got to talking. Few minutes later, the librarian shows up. As it turns out, he showed up at the same instant the last grains of sand ran out of the top chamber. We didn't find anything at the library, but did have a new hourglass. We spent the rest of the day just hanging out at my place. We talked, enjoying the entertainment the media provides. We figured out the hourglass lasted about forty-five minutes. I can't remember when we did this, but that's about how long. Before it got dark, we went to go for a walk. Nice, leisurely stroll. I remember turning the hourglass over before we left. I mean, not intentionally. We were just playing with it, and I put it down, sand on top. We left. 4.30 One of my friends asked me the time. I remember glancing down to my watch. I was about to say 5.15, but then I heard the screeching of tires. I heard a shriek, and looked up. A car was backing away from us while another of my friends lay crumpled and bleeding in the middle of the road. His neck was clearly broken. We spent the rest of the night at the police station filling out statements. They never caught the driver. Knowing what I know now, I doubt there ever was a driver. Just some car. We were sitting in my place a week later, absently fiddling with the hourglass. We set it down and forgot about it, talking about our lost friend. It was forty five minutes later when it happened. Exactly forty five. The other of my friends began to gasp for breath, holding his chest. CPR did not work, nothing did. He died of a heart attack. At our age. Ridiculous. The other guy in the room that day was also with us on the walk. We haven't talked since. I was sitting in solitude, head in my hands, grieving over my friends. It was then I realized that they had both died forty five minutes after the hourglass was turned. I wanted to be rid of the cursed object. I wanted so desperately to be rid of it, I did not consider what was to happen. I went and left it on the library steps again. I went back the next day, and it was gone. I would never see it again. But things kept happening. Seemingly random, but I could only assume that the new owner was turning it over. Life was going terrible. The girlfriend I had made dumped me for another man. My friends trickled away. Oh, but I was never alone. I would hear whispers. Laughing. Footsteps. Yes. Footsteps walking across the room I was in, and I could see nothing. It was so unnerving. For a while, it was only in the dark. But then, it started in the day too. Wherever I went, I head this laughing, mocking me from a place I could not see. I suppose if it had stopped there, I would have been fine. It didn’t. I awoke one night to the smell of death. I also could not move. I became aware of a breathing sound mere inches from my face. It began to whisper. I could not understand it. I tried to sit up, but I felt a searing pain as something unseen tore into my chest. It ripped something out. I’m still living now, but the scars are there. Always and forever. I remember what happened after, too. I felt the air rush against my face, and heard the flap of leathery wings. I heard them fly out my door, and then a crash. When I regained my ability to move, I ran to where I heard the sound, and found a broken window. I live with them every day. I hear whispers, laughs, taunting me. I try to block them out, but then I feel cold fingers wrap around me, and feel myself inexplicably led towards danger. This is why I can only be in crowded places. Someone to pull me away. Break the grip of whatever has got a hold of me. I’ve moved around a lot. But they followed me. I knew it was pointless, so I gave up. I moved back here, to the place I lived years ago. Then, I saw you. I knew I had to talk to you. You were special. And during our conversation, I figured out why. Nice to meet you. I’m you. Category:Reality